The 100th Hunger Games
by Naim Wright
Summary: "To remind the rebels that they are no more than animals, one mutt for each living tribute in the arena will be released every night." Rated M for blood and gore.


The 100th Hunger Games

Disclaimer: I do not own the hunger games

Of course I was in a bad mood. It's reaping day and another boy and girl are about to die for the Capitol's sadistic enjoyment. My name is Archer. Archer Patella. I finally get out of bed after an hour. My little sister opens the door as soon as I am on my feet. "MOOOM! Archer's not dressed!" She snitches. I had always hated my family. Except for my 18 year old brother. He always had a habit of pulling me out of the frying pan. He was 3 years older than me and much stronger. Anyway, I can see my abusive mother charging down the hallway with a whip in her hand. I'm going to be in blinding pain soon. And then I feel it. The whip lashes across my face and I can soon feel the warmth of my own blood. My brother is then sprinting down the hallway, now reasoning with Mom. The hours pass and it's finally time for the reaping. As I stand in the crowd, I can smell the aromas of my metal producing District. "Good morning, District 9!' The escort cries. "Ladies first!". Her pale hand goes into the girl's ball and out comes the name Rhena Ashman. " Now for the boys!". She reaches in and… "Archer Patella!"

"I VOLUNTEER!"

I look around to see who said those words. Then, I realize that it was my older brother. I almost fall off of the stage when I find out. And without thinking, out of my mouth come the words: " No! I was called, I'm going!". I am then ushered into the justice building. No one visits. Then, I am shoved over to the train that will take me to the capitol. My morphling loving mentor then walks into the room and stares at me. He walks over to the dining table, grabs a few pastries, and sits down. He hands me two of the raspberry tart stroodels and finally speaks. " Listen up, or these are going to be your last days alive." He says gruffly. Geez, harsh. I finally decide to speak up and say " How do I win?". He shakes his head. " The one and only way to win is to fight. I don't care if you survive to the final two, you will have to kill or be killed at one point or another. This year, they are going to release a new batch of mutts every night. One mutt for each living tribute. They are going to be your biggest concern. More than the other tributes. These things are genetically engineered to kill everything that moves. Keep your head above the water."

Later that night, Rhena comes over and plops down on the couch next to me. "Hey, Archer." she says. I look at her angrily because I was focusing on my strategy for staying alive in the arena. " We should be allies. We would last much longer if there were two of us. Just give me a bow, and I might be better than the careers." She persuades. "Okay," I answer.

After the stupid chariot ride, it's time for training. I walk on over to the climbing station. While in line, the District 4 boy trips. He stands up and holds me by the neck. He thinks that I tripped him. I would tell him that he just slipped, but his grip is so tight that I can't get air in or out. His fist pulls back and connects with my jaw. Then, I hear a scream of pain and rage as a blunt arrow hits his temple. He drops to the floor, holding his head. There is a small, steady flow of blood coming from right below his hairline. I look at Rhena and we share a smile.

I am standing on the metal plate, now I am still in the tube it raises and I feel the heat of the desert on me. We are in a big clearing surrounded by dry desert brush and cactus. My eyes scan the cornucopia, finding a good weapon, a hatchet. The gong rings and I sprint. I am among the first few to arrive. I hear screams and cannons all around me as I pick up a hatchet. I begin the run away from the cornucopia. After about ten minutes, I beside Rhena and her dark skin. We got about a mile and a half away from the cornucopia. I force her and I to keep moving at a steady jog. The sun does not help us. This is how people die I thought they keep running and they dehydrate. They just collapse because their bodies make them. They die right there. Night comes. The temeprature is cooler, but far from good. I can hear a howl at first I am a little nervous, then just downright terrified as I realize what it was. Tonight's mutts. There are already thirteen tributes left. I hear loud, horrid screams of pain and terror. 3 cannons. Then four mutts Surround Rhena and me, teeth bared. They charge at us and I slam my hatchet into one of the coyote's shoulders. It's blood spurts everywhere, but it seems as if I didn't even hit it. These mutts are tough. Rhena kills 3 mutts with an arrow to the eyes. There is one left, and it pounces on Rhena, but I smash, hack and slash it's head and neck. It is dead. In the moonlight, I can see Rhena's shimmering, crimson blood. There is a large deep open wound in her stomach it smells horrible and revolting, but I have to help her. Her blood is spilling out onto the ground as I walk twoards her. She has tears in her eyes and isn't moving. A cannon rings, and it's hers. My ally is dead. The screams stop, and the faces in the sky show. There are 8 tributes left, including me the ones that are alive are probably wounded. I close Rhena's eyes and walk away. I need shelter or what is left if the careers will find me and kill me. I bury myself in a small hole and stay there for the night.

I wake up with a jolt. My pulse is really high and I can hear footsteps above me. And suddenly, my roof breaks and the bottom of a boot hits me in the stomach. I grunt in pain and instantly push the boot back, knocking the owner off of their feet. I stand up and see that it's the girl from District 3. She was an expert with her knife. We are both on our feet. Her long, red hair is something that I could use in battle to my advantage. " Still haven't made your move? Oh well, what could a stupid little District 9 boy do?". That's it. She hit the right button and now, I felt pure rage. I swung my hatchet with hurricane force at her neck, but she dodged. Why did I fall for that! She has a wide open space to attack me now! She sent the knife thrusting at my rib cage. But, I hit her arm off course as I came back for another strike. I then kicked her extremely hard in her right hip with my left boot. She screamed in pain because I broke her hip with that kick. She fell to the ground and I hit her in the forehead with my axe. BOOM! Dead. Then, I collapsed. I was too thirsty. I threw my tomahawk at a cactus in anger. A pale green juice came out. Drinkable? Yeah. Great. While the careers are stabbing and killing and being stabbed and killed, I am enjoying a cool, sweet cold drink. That's the life. I keep on drinking into the night until I hear a rustle in the bushes. I look around, but by the time I realize where the aggressor is, I already feel a sword come straight through my back. The edges of my vision start to fade, and everything goes black.

I wake up groggily. I feel dizzy and lightheaded, and my blood is on the ground. I am still alive? Guess so. There is a white parachute beside me, so I pick it up and open it. Inside, I find a syringe and a note. First, I use the parachute material as bandaging. Then, I read the note: Dipezodaminecorticosteroids- a strong substance used in the fight for Panem as a hyper- steroid that gave users superhuman speed, strength, reaction time and stamina. Nice. I injected the syringe into my arm and instantly felt better. Then, the last career, a D2 male came up to me with the sword that he used to stab charged at each other and I dodged his strike. I swung at him and he swung at me. I hit him in the thigh, and blood spilled. He was still alive. He slashed my stomach open, like Rhena's. I would have been dead if it weren't for the steroids. I threw my hatchet as my blood and guts met the ground. The blade of my weapon landed right between his eyes. He died, I won.


End file.
